Sessions
by ArouraStar
Summary: Primatech thinks that Sylar need therapy, and that Dr. Suresh should be the one to listen. Eventual Mylar. Spoilers for season 3. Sort of. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own any of these characters. Ah, if only...

This started as a short lead in then turned out to be over 700 words so I decided to just make it a prologue. I've been pretty inspired lately so I should be posting the chapters pretty quickly. Sadly ( or luckily depending on who you ask) I have no life. Please review, even if you hate it I want to know what I can do to make it better.

* * *

It had been months since the company had made Noah Bennett his partner. Months since he'd started the drug treatments. The suppressants that dulled his powers. That dulled everything for that matter. Once they'd determined the drugs were working they decided to move on to _other_ methods of treatment.

Cue: The _Sessions._ The idea seemed absurd to him at first. Being locked in a room with that Haitian, bound to a chair (as if that could stop him), _confessing his sins_ to that self-righteous Dr. Suresh and a tape recorder. But the more he thought about it the more he realized how fun this whole situation could be. Seeing the look on Mohinder's face as he described the way it felt cutting open their heads, seeing inside of them. How they worked. What made them tick, so to speak.

And that's how it went; at first. Every day he would be escorted to that room, to sit in that chair. That same uncomfortable chair every time. Two rather burly men would strap him in "for everyone's safety" they said. _Ha. How does having leather straps cut into_ my _wrists make_ me _safe? _He thought to himself. ThenMohinder would come in, looking partially scared, partially disgusted. He would take a seat at his desk and be sure to get every piece of paper straight and organized before even glancing across the room at Sylar. _What was the point of him reforming if no one was going to trust him?_ He'd presented this point at the first session.

"The point is so that we can _start_ trusting you. You can't just pretend to be compliant then expect everyone to believe that you've changed over night. You're not going to get away with that here." Mohinder had explained to him.

"Well then why should I trust _you_? You used to want to kill me, why shouldn't I think you still want to?" Sylar didn't really care whether the man sitting across from him wanted him dead or not. There was no way that could be accomplished anyway. This was just a way for him to defer the topic until he made Dr. Suresh angry enough that he left him alone.

"You shouldn't. I do still to, more than anything. But since I can't kill you, I'll just have to settle with torturing you instead. Now, here's how this is going to work: you are going to tell me every little thing about yourself, Gabriel." A look of disgust crossed Sylar brooding face at the mention of that name.

"You're going to tell me every detail about your life, your childhood, all your embarrassing secrets. Everything."

"And what exactly is that going to accomplish?" Sylar was staling for time.

"It's going to make you uncomfortable and I think I'm going to enjoy that quite a bit."

Sylar glared at him. Oh the things he would do if that damn Haitian wasn't in the room. Even with diminished powers he could still wreak havok with that mans internal organs, could still make him scream. His glare turned into a smirk as thought about it. He wasn't about to share _anything_ along those very personal lines with the doctor. Sylar would tell him what he wanted to hear, make up some sob stories to make him think that he was having a breakthrough. But not before he replaced that smug look with one of disgust. He couldn't help himself, it was so easy. So fun.

After the first week or so the doctor had learned to disguise the pain and horror he felt every time Sylar mentioned one of his victims. Mohinder could tell by the way he smiled after sharing a particularly gruesome tidbit that he was just trying to get a reaction. Sure he was telling the truth, but it wasn't what he said it was the way he was saying it. Like he was putting on a show. Every time he tried to move the subject towards the past, about the watchmakers son, Sylar would come up with a new detail he'd forgotten to share about which body parts you could make twitch by touching which parts of the brain, or something equally disturbing that made the doctor wish for the hundredth time he wasn't the one sitting across from that chair. Even though some of the facts he shared were pretty interesting, in a strictly scientific way. If only these facts had been observed in a less tragic way.

By the third week Sylar had started to slip up. Every now and then he'd open up unintentionally and make some actual progress. He didn't know why they had the geneticist listening to him instead of some shrink, but he was glad Mohinder was there. For some reason it made it easier to open up. He knew that no one could truly understand him, but he felt like Mohinder might at least be able to get close. Not that he cared of course. Or at least that's what he kept telling himself. He was starting to look forward to their sessions. It was still uncomfortable, talking, that chair, the restraints. It was bad enough him having to be physically vulnerable, but emotionally too? Gabriel had never been in control. He was the shy, scared little boy always looking for mommy's approval. Sylar didn't want to go back to that. To being that un-special Gabriel Gray. But that's exactly where Mohinder was trying to get him. Better an insecure man with mommy issues than a psychopathic serial killer. If he could get him back to that point, back to Gabriel, then they could deal with those issues and maybe he could be turned around. Get him on the side of good, so to speak. Or at least that's what the company was aiming for.


	2. Waste of time

Sessions: Chapter 1  
I have no idea how long this story is going to be, but I'll try to keep 'em coming at a good rate.

Disclaimer: Shockingly I _still_ don't own Heroes. I know, I can't believe it either.

* * *

"Session 22." Dr. Suresh recited out loud, as he did every day, for the tape recording. "Date: eleventh of-"

"Twenty two days already?" Sylar interrupted. "Amazing how time goes by when you're having fun." He mused sarcastically.

"You mean when you're getting nothing accomplished. I have so many other projects I could be working on in the time that I'm wasting with you. I could actually be doing some good instead of babysitting the resident psycho-" He stopped himself. He hadn't meant to go off on a tangent like that. "I'm sorry. I just, it's just that we're not making any progress and you're not even trying so there's really no point in this." Damn. That came out wrong too. He was supposed to be encouraging and helpful, not discouraging and angry. It was just that he could be spending his time on things he was actually qualified for. Why did _he_ have to be the one conducting these sessions? Why did he have to hear about all the gruesome details? "Sorry. I didn't mean- I just have a lot on my mind." The doctor ran a hand through his dark, tousled curls.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sylar mocked. Leaning forward as much as he could being strapped into the chair. He tilted his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows in a concerned, understanding look.

Mohinder paused for a moment and almost replied before he caught himself. That was the thing about trying to get into Sylar's head: he always knew how to turn it around. He had so much more practice.

Mohinder dismissed the question with a disapproving look like one that you would give a child trying to trick you into giving them another cookie.

He finished the date and time for the recording before raising his head to look at Sylar again.

"Shall we continue?"

"Did we ever start?" Was the smart-ass response.

Mohinder sighed and rolled his eyes. This was pointless. It would end up being another hour of quick-witted banter, each one trying to out do the other in the speed and cruelty of their jabs. He never meant to reply but he couldn't help being baited by that man. He knew exactly which buttons to push.

"I want you to take off these restraints." Sylar said, nodding towards the straps around his wrists. It was more an order than a request. Dr. Suresh failed in his attempt to stifle a laugh at this preposterous demand.

"Well I want to be at home right now having lunch with Molly, so I guess neither of us is getting what we want." He knew the man was psychotic but honestly. Thinking _that_ would ever happen? That was just plain crazy.

"If you take these off, I'll tell you about this time when I was nine and I walked in on my parents in the shower. It was very traumatic. I believe it may be the root of all this evil inside of me." It'd started out as an innocent attempt to negotiate, really it did, but he couldn't help teasing. Even though he'd probably just screwed his chances for the day and would now most likely have to wait until tomorrow to get the shackles off. It was still worth it.

"While you're making ridiculous demands and bogus offers, is there anything else I can get you?" Mohinder sarcastically played along. He was almost at his breaking point.

"Just one actually. I want the Haitian gone as well."

"Of course you do. I'll get right on that. I just have to take care of a flying pig problem we've been having as of late and then I'll get right to you request."

"I'm being serious!" The serial killer growled, lunging at the doctor and clenching his fists. Mohinder, who had been leaning forward until this point, now leaned back in his chair so abruptly that he almost fell over. _This isn't helping my case_. Sylar thought to himself._ Relax._

He took a deep breath and sat back in his seat, relaxing his hands. He attempted an apologetic facial expression then started speaking again, this time in his usual deep persuasive voice, keeping his temper under control.

"I would like to talk privately. How can you expect me to open up when I'm being recorded for anyone to listen to and I have so many people watching me? Where's the trust? Where's the patient-doctor confidentiality? Where's the comfortable environment that's supposed to encourage growth and sharing?" He was trying to appeal to logic.

"First off: when did the definition of 'so many', as you put it, change to mean two? And secondly…" he paused, trying to come up with a good reason why that statement didn't make sense. Would he care to share all of his deeply personal issues in that kind of setting? _No._ He thought. _Although, I'm not a psychotic serial killer._ He looked at the pleading eyes of the man sitting in front of him. _Or a saint. We've all made mistakes._ A nagging voice in his head reminded him. He tried to ignore it.

"Secondly, he barely speaks," he gestured towards the Haitian, "who would he tell?" Okay so it wasn't the strongest argument but at least it was something.

"That's not the point. How many people would you want listening to your life story?" Good point; well made. If Mohinder hadn't known better he would've thought the man was reading his mind. But no. That was one power he didn't need. He always had an uncanny ability to read people, even in times like this where he didn't have use of his heightened senses.

"How about I offer a compromise? The tape recording will be for personally dictation purposes only, and no restraints, but the Haitian stays?" That seemed fair to the doctor. It was the safest choice at least. Without his powers and physically weakened by the new drugs the Haitian could easily overpower Sylar if things got out of hand.

"Restraints, no Haitian. I won't talk if he's in the room." He knew that he would get his way in the end, he just had to relinquish a bit and let Mohinder think he was in charge. He'd give into the recording and even the restraints. For the moment.

It suddenly struck Mohinder how childlike Sylar was. Short-tempered and sneaky, pouting and throwing tantrums when he didn't get his way, but still retaining an insecure innocence hidden behind it all. Even if it could only be glimpsed on very rare occasions.

"How am I supposed to know that you won't just try to kill me once no one else is in the room?" Sylar had to stop himself from saying that there would be no_ trying_ if he'd wanted to kill him.

"Think about it. How many times have we been alone together?" Sylar paused for a second, giving the doctor, and himself, a moment to remember all the time they'd spent together. "Don't you think you'd be dead by now if that's what I wanted?" Mohinder knew that this was true. There had been so many instances where he'd let his guard down with that man, so many opportunities that he could have easily taken advantage of. And yet, here he was alive and well, and even though not being killed wasn't exactly a reason for implicit trust, for some reason he _did_ find himself believing that Sylar didn't want him dead. He hoped it wasn't just wishful thinking.

"Yes well, I'll see what I can do. I'm not making any promises, and if I concede and you continue to be belligerent-"

"I won't." Sylar quickly interrupted. He let a little smile escape his lips before he caught himself and regained control. But it was too late, Mohinder had seen it. _Maybe this isn't such a waste of time after all. _He thought, smiling back briefly.


	3. Progress

Yay! So this one took me a bit longer than I intended, I was forced into social interaction and fresh air (tragic right?). But here it is, I hope you like it. I'm trying to get things moving along so I hope it all makes sense. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Not a bit.

* * *

"How do you like the new arrangements?" Dr. Suresh asked as he walked into the room. He'd presented Sylar's requests to his bosses and everything had been arranged with barely any opposition, the next day having them in a new, private room with panic buttons on the wall in six foot intervals and heavily armed guards posted outside the door. Just in case. He had to admit that he wasn't expecting them to allow the changes. '_Fixing' _Sylar was more important to them than he'd thought. It was kind of important to him now too. He wasn't sure whether that was because he genuinely wanted to see the killer reform or whether it was because he wanted to see if it was even possible. The doctor had always let his curiosity get the better of him.

"Not bad. I like the change in scenery. These blue walls are much more relaxing than that harsh white and this chair has much more lumbar support. Of course it would be even more comfortable if I could move my wrists…" Sylar let his sarcastic answer trail off, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

"Ah, ever the joker." Mohinder sat down in his new, rather comfortable, seat. He had to admit he believed he was going to enjoy this change as well. If he was completely honest, being in the room with The Haitian unsettled him more so than being in the room with Sylar had.

Their new room was smaller that the old one, maybe 12x12, with light blue walls and a white tiled floor, the center of which was covered by an area rug decorated with spirals of various sizes in shades of blue. There was a rectangular, cherry colored coffee table in the middle of the room with a chair at either end and a small couch on one side.

Dr. Suresh leaned forward to put the little black tape recorder on the table, red light turning on. He recited the usual formalities of date and time then turned his focus to Sylar.

"Was there anything in particular that you wanted to talk about now that we're alone?" He was expecting silence or a sardonic remark.

"Have you ever been told you were perfect?" Sylar asked staring at a tiny aqua colored spiral on the floor directly in front of Mohinder's feet. His initial reaction was to deflect the personal question and get the subject back to Sylar, but he knew that wouldn't get him anywhere so he decided to oblige.

"A few times, yes."

"Well good for you. I've always been told that 'I can be so much more', that I 'have the potential to do more important things' with my life. No matter how happy I was or how good I was, I could always be better. It was never good enough to just _be_." This was actual honesty. Real, uncomfortable honesty. It was rather shocking and Mohinder was fascinated to hear more.

"Ever since I was a child it was _potential_ this and _future_ that. Every good grade I got my mother would tell me I would grow up to be something _special_." He spit that last word out quickly, as if it physically hurt him to say out loud.

"My father was never good enough for her either. When they married he started work in a watch shop so that he could afford to take her traveling all across the country, but he never did. Once he'd started working he couldn't stop. Or _wouldn't_ stop, rather. She always wanted to see me do the things she never could. I used to bring her snow globes. She collected them. One from every state. It made her happy that I traveled. I was almost living up to my full potential." He took a deep breath then continued.

"I remember this one time when I was in fourth grade I wrote a story. It was about a turtle named Timmy, and his adventures exploring a lake and the woods around it. I spent every spare hour I had for a week on that story. I was extra careful to make sure my spelling was _perfect_ and my handwriting was _perfect_. I even drew illustrations for it. I got a B plus because of a few forgotten comas. My teacher had even put a 'good job' sticker with a little cartoon turtle on it at the top of the page. I was so excited I ran to my mother as soon as I got home from school and showed her. She looked at the grade, smiled down at me and said 'See what you can achieve when you put your mind to it? Now just imagine how much better you could have done if you'd really been concentrating and put your all in it.' "

He hadn't meant to say all of that. He was only going to give Mohinder a little tease; just enough to reciprocate for the new setting, after all, that was the deal. Once he'd started talking though it just all kept coming out. He hadn't even realized he remembered that story. He had more he wanted to share, more he _had_ to share. He raised his eyes slowly to meet Mohinder's, searching the man's expression for any signs of mockery or amusement. He braced himself for the 'serves you right' statement that he knew was coming, but it never did. In fact the only thing that escaped Mohinder's lips was a soft spoken "I see," that would've been barely audible to normal ears, but Sylar's heightened sense discerned it easily.

The speechless doctor tried to think of something to break the silence that was growing ever more uncomfortable. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and be subjected to yet another of Sylar violent outbursts, he'd experienced enough of those for one lifetime. He wanted to keep this conversation going but he couldn't think of anything. Luckily he didn't have to. Sylar cleared his throat loudly, making Mohinder jump involuntarily.

"Was your childhood happy Dr. Suresh?" It was another lead in question. Mohinder thought about his answer for a minute before responding, trying to decide between the truth or a quick answer that wouldn't shift the focus of the conversation to his past. _Would he know if I was lying?_ He couldn't read in the man's face which answer he was looking for so he decided to go generic. Short and sweet is always best.

"As happy as any, I suppose. What about you?"

"You're lying to me doctor, I can tell these things you know. Don't try to change the subject." He flashed a devilish smile, back to his devious, composed self, and rephrased his question.

"Why were you an unhappy child?" Mohinder squirmed under Sylar's dark gaze. He didn't like this line of questioning. He didn't like talking about his past, or even remembering it for that matter. It was best left alone; he didn't need old issues to resurface. Those memories were buried for a reason.

"I wasn't." Sylar tutted and shook his head in disapproval. Mohinder amended his statement. "Not all the time. For the most part I had a fine childhood; loving grandparents, doting mother, crazy. but adoring, aunts and uncles."

"And a daddy who never cared quite enough. You left that part out." Sylar was very blunt, but not in a cruel way, this was more of a way to cut through all of the pleasantries, i.e. lies, and get to the point. He wanted to understand Mohinder, not hurt him. At least for the moment.

"Yes, well…" Dr. Suresh was staring off into space, his eyes fixed on the coffee table but not really noticing it. He was absentmindedly playing with a single stray thread near the right knee of his jeans.

"Was he always like he was when I knew him?" Mohinder flinched a little to hear the man who killed his father talk about him so cavalierly.

"If you mean secretive, reluctant to ask for help, and impossible to please, then yes, he was always like that. Even if you were hanging on his every word and trying your best to follow his complicated, confusing footsteps he wouldn't let you. He'd say it was his burden to bear or that you were too good to waste your time with him. Which was ridiculous because you know what he really meant was you weren't good enough." Oops. Talk about going off on a tangent. Sylar was good. All he'd done was ask a simple question and all of a sudden Mohinder was ranting away. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. _It doesn't matter anymore, he's dead. Why do I still care so much?_ He felt his cheeks flush when he looked up and realized that Sylar was staring at him. He had a look in his eyes that Mohinder had never seen him express before. At least not sincerely. It was empathy; he could tell the man in front of him knew exactly how he felt.

Sylar suddenly had the urge to go over to him, to hold him and tell him that he _was_ good enough. He thought briefly about freeing his wrists telekinetically but then decided against it. He didn't want to let him know he could get free just yet. It had been a while since he'd thought about holding Mohinder; it felt like a lifetime ago since he'd traveled around with him, before the geneticist had known who he really was. He'd tried to forget about the short time they'd spent together driving to Montana, about having to deceive him. He usually had no problem lying, in fact he was incredible at it, and he had done so many things far worse than that, but it was different with Mohinder. It didn't feel right to be lying to him; if it hadn't been absolutely necessary he probably would've broken down and told him everything one of those cold, snowy nights. Mohinder just had that affect on people. At least that's what Sylar told himself. There could be no other reason for it.

"So, I think that you should start a journal." Sylar attention was called back to the present by Dr. Suresh's suggestion. The change of subject was welcomed readily.

"A journal? But what if someone read it?" He was horrified at the thought of it.

"I don't think anyone is _quite_ that brave, do you? Besides, I believe it would be a good exercise for you; very therapeutic. No one has to see it; I just thought it would be helpful to get some of those feelings out and onto paper. I know it helps me sometimes to write when I feel some emotion strongly. I usually turn to poetry." He felt a little embarrassed about this last part.

"Isn't that why we're having these sessions? So that I can 'get some of those feelings out'? Wouldn't starting a journal make one of you redundant?"

"No. Well, yes. That is why we're having the sessions, but no, it's not redundant. You can write in the journal anything you don't feel comfortable telling me."

"So you mean everything? Why didn't you suggest this before I started _sharing_?" They were back to banter, all awkwardness dissolving from the room.

"I still want you to talk to me. The journal is just a supplement."

Sylar mused over this for a moment. There could possibly be some merit in that proposal.

"I'll give it a shot." An idea suddenly sparked in his mind and he couldn't help but grin in that cat-like way of his at the thought of it. He looked directly into Mohinder's eyes, still smiling wickedly and added, "If you write me a poem."

Dr. Suresh suddenly remembered he had a very important meeting to attend and called their session to an abrupt end. He knew as soon as he'd said it that he would regret giving Sylar that piece of insight about him. He picked up his notebook and tape recorder and left. It wasn't until later that night when he tried to replay the tape that he noticed it had been melted beyond repair.


	4. Journal

Gah! This chapter took me _forever_ to finish! Solitaire should be perminately uninstalled from my computer. Games and boyfriends take up too much time.  
I hope you guys enjoy. I've already started on the next installment so I'll try to get that one up sooner next time.

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. If I did, there would be a LOT more shirtless Sylar scenes on the show. Trust me.

* * *

Journaling seemed as crazy as therapy had to Sylar. Now that he'd started talking why should he stop and go back to his old introspective ways? It didn't make sense. He didn't like repeating himself and if it was a choice between writing it down or telling Mohinder he would much prefer the latter. _"You can write in the journal anything you don't feel comfortable telling me."_ He remembered the encouraging words. _That's the problem,_ He thought, _there isn't anything I don't feel comfortable telling you._

He was sitting cross-legged on the piece of furniture Primatech tried to pass for a bed in his box-like cell. Sylar was used to the discomfort by now. In fact, he found it mildly amusing. They felt guilty for needing him and made it as unpleasant for him as possible so that they wouldn't feel as bad. They believed they were doing a disservice to him by making him assist in their work, using him to help not hurt. That way they could all sleep better at night after they'd let him out of his cage, knowing that it was for the _greater good._ The whole concept made Sylar laugh just thinking about it. They just didn't get it. It didn't matter which side he was fighting for, just so long as he was fighting. Powers knew no _good _or_ evil_, they just _were_, and they were being wielded by the unworthy everyday. Unworthy good, unworthy bad, it didn't matter to him. They didn't understand the abilities, not like he did. He could understand anything. It wasn't fair. Those contemptible people didn't appreciate their gifts; that's why he had to take them. It was unfortunate that they had to die in the process, but that was evolution. A body born with a mutation it cannot handle will eventually shut down. He was just speeding up the natural progression and making sure it wasn't a total waste.

Sylar opened the journal Mohinder had hand delivered to him bright and early that morning. It was black leather-bound with unlined pages, the first of which already scribbled upon. The ever-thoughtful doctor had written him a note.

"_For if you ever need to share and I'm not there."_

Sylar felt himself smile involuntarily and his cheeks reddened with a rush of blood. He was embarrassed by the sudden burst of warmth he'd obtained from reading Mohinder's words. He shut the book and sat it on the small metal table next to his bed. Even if he wanted to write he couldn't; there was nothing to write with. Pencils and pens were categorized as 'dangerous sharp implements' by Primatech and therefore inaccessible without supervision. The idea that he wouldn't be able make blunt 'implements' do as much harm as sharp ones was an absurd one and Sylar was slightly disappointed at their low expectations of him. He didn't require props to kill them if he really wanted to.

He didn't though. Sylar already understood them perfectly, no need to open them up and look, he could read their intentions from the start, see right through every one of their selfish motives. The company thought it was being so clever when in all actuality they were so obvious.

They were trying to make him better alright, but not in the way they'd convinced Dr. Suresh of. They were trying to train him, to make him another weapon in Primatech's arsenal of freaks. The sessions were insurance; it wouldn't do to have an unstable killer on their hands, now would it? They had to get Sylar to work through his original issues before brainwashing him into believing everything they said. The plan was to gradually make him feel accepted and like he was part of their big dysfunctional family. Then they could use him to do the dirty work in their quest to 'save the world' and they could all feel smug and convince themselves that their consciences were clear. What's one life here and there if it means saving millions? They'd already started putting their pathetic little _stratagem_ into motion by sending him on those mindless 'missions' with his ever so condescending _partner_ Noah Bennett. Primatech expected him to be their little puppy dog, only biting when they gave the command. But Sylar wasn't about to stay on anybody's leash for long. He would bide his time; his body had already started to build up a tolerance to the suppressants. A little fact he was keeping secret, for now. No one had noticed yet and he was hoping his good luck last a bit longer. Sylar wasn't ready to leave just yet, there was still more he needed to tell Mohinder.

* * *

When Sylar was escorted into the room where their sessions were held he immediately noticed how drained Dr. Suresh looked. He was sitting in his chair with his head leaned to the side, propped up on his right hand. His leg was crossed over his knee, his other hand resting on it. He looked as if he was about to fall asleep right there.

The men who'd accompanied Sylar strapped him into his seat then looked over at Mohinder, who gave them a nod to leave.

"You look tired." Sylar observed, telekinetically loosening his restraints just enough to be comfortable but not enough to draw the geneticists' eye.

"I haven't been sleeping well lately." Mohinder turned and reached beside his chair to pull a notebook out of his briefcase. He'd learned his lesson with a tape recorder and had decided to stick to old fashioned note taking. "How are you feeling today?"

"So what keeps Mohinder Suresh awake at night? Something to do with me I hope." Sylar grinned and raised his eyebrows waiting for an answer, intentionally ignoring the Indian's query. The question had the desired effect on the doctor, making him laugh for a second, showing that adorable smile that made even the callous man in front of him stop breathing for a moment.

"No, I'm just working on a lot of projects right now and it's just a little too chaotic for sleep apparently." An unintentional yawn emphasized his point.

"I suggest drugs; the one's they dope me up with in here could make you sleep for days."

"Hmm, yes well, I don't think I want to take _anything_ this place is handing out. I appreciate the suggestion though." Mohinder opened his notebook and started to write. "Now, let's stop talking about me and focus on you for a bit, shall we?"

There had been so much he wanted to talk about this morning. Sitting on the bed, looking at that journal, he'd thought of so many things he wished he could tell Mohinder. Now that he had the chance though, he could barely even think of sarcastic replies, a talent that he'd never had complications with before.

The doctor was already fully aware of most of the evil acts Sylar had committed and the killer knew that. He had personally described to him the majority of the one's Mohinder had been lucky enough not to have experienced first hand. But that was different. Everyone knew Sylar. Everyone knew of his deeds and he didn't care. But that wasn't what Dr. Suresh wanted him to talk about; wasn't _who_ he wanted him to talk about.

"I want you to discuss your life before my father talked to you, before you became Sylar."

"I had no life before your father called me. Gabriel Gray was a pathetic watch maker who was unaware of just what his ability could do, Chandra taught us that. He awakened the hunger. He introduced me to idea that others had abilities too and I had to know how they worked. He was just as hungry as me, his curiosity fueled by a need for validation instead of an appetite to understand, but we worked well together just the same." He paused, not sure whether to keep going. He heard Mohinder take a sharp breath in when he mentioned Chandra's name and he didn't want to upset the doctor by talking about it further.

"Did you suspect there was something different about you before he told you?" He still wasn't entirely comfortable discussing his father with the man who'd murdered him, but it was getting easier. Besides, he wanted to hear more of what Sylar had to say.

"I'd always felt like an outsider, even as a child I could always figure things out before everybody else and I've never been bad at anything in my life, something I can assure you didn't help me 'fit in' so to speak. Jealousy, Dr Suresh, turns to cruelty so quickly in the young. Well, in everybody I suppose." He began, encouraged by Mohinder's interest. "Not that I ever wanted to be like them. I find normalcy to be rather boring don't you?"

"I used to, yes, but after the things I've seen lately I'm starting to appreciate it more and more."

"Normal is just another word for worthless."

"That's one way to look at it." His soft response suddenly made Sylar remember his lack of abilities and realize that Mohinder might've thought he was talking about him.

"Don't be like that. We both know that you're far from normal."

"Thank you. I think." Dr Suresh wanted to get the conversation back on track; he'd never been one to take compliments well, instead of making him feel good they just made him feel awkward and shy.

"We seem to have drifted off topic."

"Indeed." They stared at each other in quiet, Mohinder trying to think of something to say and Sylar just trying to draw out the silence for as long as possible so that he would have less time to talk about himself.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity, but was in actuality ten minutes, of awkwardness, they started conversing again; the rest of their time together was then spent discussing teenage life as Gabriel Gray with bits of silence and sarcasm thrown in between.

Dr. Suresh's pager went off right before their session was scheduled to end. Another company emergency that only he could handle. _Looks like it's going to be another long night._ He thought to himself as he packed up his, now half full, notebook.

"I'm sorry; we're going to have to cut today a bit short. There's something I need to take care of."

"How will I cope without my extra seven minutes of you wonderful company?" After half an hour of truth he felt it only necessary to end on mockery.

"I'm sure you'll manage. By the way, how did you like your journal? Have you written anything?" The geneticist walked over to the door and let the guards in so that they could take Sylar back to his room.

"I would have, but the thing is, I can't have pens. Sorry. I guess we'll just have to forget about the journaling for now." He teased.

"Here." He walked over to Sylar who was now standing, each arm held, just a little too tight, by a guard. Mohinder took a ball point pen out of his jacket pocket and slipped it into the pants pocket of Sylar's company mandated scrubs.

"I'm officially giving him permission to have the pen; it's a part of his treatment." He said to the guards. "I'll see you tomorrow." He walked out of the room, leaving a very stunned Sylar looking after him.

That's when he decided he owed Mohinder. And he knew _exactly_ how he was going to repay him.


	5. Payback

Sorry this one took so long! I've been so distracted this week, and I really wanted to put a lot of time into this chapter. This is my first attempt at writting slash, although I've read enough of it, it should come out okay. I hope.  
Anyway, I hope you enjoy, I'll try not to take too long on the next updates but no promises.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, you would be seeing this on the show, not online. :-)

* * *

It was already past one in the morning when Mohinder Suresh got back to the empty apartment he called home. The place had so many horrible memories that screamed at him every time he walked through that door but he could never quite bring himself to part with it. There were some good memories laced in there too, not many, but they were worth remembering just the same. Of course, there hadn't been _any _memories made there as of late. After he'd sent Molly away to keep her safe, Matt had left too. He wanted nothing to do with the company, or with anyone who did. Mohinder didn't blame him, some mornings he didn't even want to be associated with himself. He _was_ trying to help though, the only person at the company with pure intentions. He was trying to make sure that people who had abilities knew how to use them and that people who didn't have abilities would never get them. He'd learned his lesson with _that._

The geneticist dropped his briefcase into his desk chair and made his way to the bedroom to change. _If I'm going to be up all night going over data I might as well be comfortable,_ he thought as he walked over to the closet. He hung his jacket up then started fumbling with the buttons of his shirt; dexterity went out the window after twenty one straight hours awake. Suddenly his shirt started unbuttoning itself from the bottom up, unnoticed by Mohinder until he felt the fabric pull itself off his muscular shoulders. He quickly turned around as the shirt flew across the room and into the corner.

"How did you get in here?" He growled at the tall, dark man standing in front of him.

"That doesn't matter, does it?" Sylar stepped forward, grinning as he listened to the doctor's heartbeat speed up. Mohinder's belt unbuckled itself and with a wave of the killer's hand, landed on one of the metal bed posts with a loud _ting_. The grin turned into a deep, throaty laugh as Sylar watched Mohinder dash past him and hurry down the hall towards the kitchen table where he'd left the cordless phone.

"What're you doing here?" He reached the kitchen table and turned to face Sylar, who'd followed him. His voice started to tremble a bit as he asked the question.

"You said you weren't sleeping; I wanted to help. I know a few... _remedies._" Sylar tilted his head to the side and looked at Mohinder as if this were the most obvious explanation in the world.

"How? By scaring me into a coma? I don't want that kind of help, thanks anyway." He picked up the phone and started dialing.

"What are you doing?" Sylar asked, smiling at the doctor's accusation.

"I'm calling Primatech to send someone to come and get you." He stepped backwards as Sylar walked towards him, bumping into the table as he did.

"Don't be silly." He stepped even closer so that their faces were only inches apart, and placed his hands on Mohinder's hips, sliding his thumbs just below the elastic of his boxers. Sylar could feel the geneticist's hot breath on his lips as he started breathing harder. "You don't really want to do that," his thumbs massaged Mohinder's delicate hip bones, slowly moving lower, "do you?"

Mohinder took a sharp breath in and hit the _'end'_ button on the phone.

"Good choice." Sylar kissed him hard, bringing his hands up to cup the Indian's strong jaw. He softened his pressure slightly, parting Mohinder's lips with his tongue. There was less resistance than expected. Mohinder dropped the phone onto the table and put his hands on the small of Sylar's back, pulling him closer into the kiss and making it so that the men's hips were now touching. A shiver went through Sylar's body, feeling the warmth of Mohinder's shirtless chest against his; separated only by the thin fabric of his own shirt, which now felt as though it was suffocating him. He let out a small, involuntary whimper when the doctor broke their kiss, pushing him away roughly.

"We can't." Mohinder breathed, panting somewhat from the ferocity of their embrace.

"_Why not?_" Sylar took his shirt off and let it drop to the floor. He smirked as he watched the man in front of him, Mohinder's eyes taking in every curve of his muscular torso. The doctor bit his lip, trying to remember why he'd pushed Sylar away and attempting to resist the urge to rip off the rest of his clothes. It was too much for his brain to handle at once; his body ached with wanting, screaming at him to pull the killer closer, to touch and kiss every inch of his tall, trim body. He knew that he should think it was wrong but at that particular moment he couldn't come up with a single reason why.

"Oh screw it." Mohinder stepped forward and shoved Sylar against the wall, kissing him fiercely. Sylar was caught off guard by this display of dominance; he wasn't used to not being in control but he was enjoying it. He tilted his head as Mohinder mouth explored his stubbly jaw line, allowing easier access. He was working his way down, moving from Sylar's earlobe, biting and sucking, traveling down his neck to a spot on Sylar's collar bone that made him moan with pleasure.

Sylar ran his hands down Mohinder's back to his thighs, pausing briefly to grope his ass. The doctor bit down harder than he meant to when Sylar's hands traveled up the inside of his thighs, the friction caused by the fabric of his jeans against his growing member sent a shiver up his spine.

Sylar was done being submissive; he switched places with Mohinder, kissing him deeply while telekinetically sliding off his jeans. The killer's tongue explored his mouth while his hands explored his groin.

He slid down to his knees, kissing his way to the top of Mohinder's boxers, his lips lingering momentarily on his hip bone as he slid the restricting cloth down out of the way. He had never enjoyed his ability to sense other people's feelings more than he did right then; the mixture of Mohinder's cravings for more and his own arousal nearly pushing him over the edge. He took a deep breath, trying to pace himself. There was more he had planned for Mohinder and he wanted to enjoy the doctor's climax entirely.

"More… touch… " Mohinder's nearly incoherent whimpers brought Sylar, who had broken contact with him for only a second to calm himself, back into the moment. Being an object of desire instead of revulsion was different for him, and he was starting to think he could get used to it, especially when it meant he yielded this much control.

He looked up at Mohinder and grinned devilishly right before taking the length of him into his mouth. Mohinder arched against the wall as Sylar varied pressure with his lips, moving slowly down and then quickly back up his swelling member, sending him into a realm of pleasure like he'd never experienced before. Working faster, he employed the use of his hands, focusing his mouth solely on the tip, feeling himself grow harder with every gratifying moan he elicited with the movements of his tongue. With one last slow, agonizingly satisfying dip of his head, Mohinder was cuming. It was all he could do to keep standing, every muscle in his body had gone numb. Feeling all of that coupled with the delicious taste of Mohinder in his mouth was enough that Sylar finally let himself go, his pleasure doubling as he heard the doctor scream his name as he finished.

* * *

Sylar woke up with a smile on his face; he'd almost forgotten he could do that. He'd acquired the ability to invade people's dreams ages ago, when he was working with Chandra, and had never thought it useful until just then. He hadn't even been sure that it would work when the idea had popped into his head the day before. The ability had a fantastic range; you didn't even have to be on the same continent as the other person just so long as you could visualize them clearly. But that had been before the suppressants and Sylar had no idea how close Mohinder would've had to have been for it to work. Luckily, wherever he was it'd been close enough.

* * *

Mohinder was woken up to the sound of his beeping watch alarm. He'd fallen asleep at his Primatech desk for the second time that week. He turned the alarm off, surprised that he'd slept solidly for the past seven hours. He blushed suddenly, remembering his dream. Had that really been a dream? It hadn't felt like one; he could still feel the way Sylar's skin had felt on his, the way his mouth tasted. His body responded to these recollections, causing Mohinder's jeans to tighten against him. He looked around to make sure the door to his office was closed; he would have to get this under control before the next time he saw Sylar, which was supposed to have been three minutes ago. Feeling his pants grow even tighter as he thought about Sylar's dark eyes and those soft, smooth lips, he decided that it might be best to cancel today's session.


	6. Missing you

Thanks everybody for all the great reviews. I love hearing what you guys think. I took a small break for Halloween but now I am back to writing everyday, but I'm not gonna make any promises on when the next chapter will be up because I'm aiming for it to be the last one/ next to last one so I want to make sure it's perfect. Until then, read, enjoy, review.

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes :( There. I said it. Are you trying to make me cry?!?

* * *

It was eight o'clock.

Sylar could tell because every morning at precisely eight the day shift guards took over their posts and the night shifts went home. He heard them _every _morning, exchanging pleasantries, reporting any disturbances, and occasionally talking about the weather. Sometimes he wished he'd never met Dale. Sure a heightened sense of hearing was useful every once in a while, but most of the time it was just annoying. Eves dropping had lost its thrill now that he was locked up in here; hearing all of the inmates' angry mumblings or the guards' dull small talk day in and day out was almost enough to make him volunteer for more drugs. Almost.

He was laying on his back, staring at the ceiling as he waited for the familiar sound of footsteps leading to a beeping keypad and the _clink_ of the door sliding open. Ten minutes past; no footsteps. Fifteen more minutes; no beeping, no _clink_.

Sylar sat up; his curiosity peaked as to why no one had come to get him, his overactive mind immediately jumping to a painful conclusion: Mohinder had been frightened, or worse _repulsed_, by the dream and couldn't stand to see him. His responsiveness in the illusion last night had given Sylar hope because it proved that somewhere, even if only in his subconscious, the doctor did have feelings for him. But now Sylar was starting to second guess that assumption. Maybe he had exerted too much control over Mohinder's consciousness and it had solely been his own fantasy, Mohinder just following along like a puppet. He couldn't bear the though of that. He wanted so much for it to have been what Mohinder wanted as well. What he really wanted was for it to have been _real, _but the more he let his mind wander the more he lost confidence in that ever happening. There were too many 'what if's that accompanied the absence of their daily session and he couldn't help his paranoia, it was the Gabriel in him. Sylar wasn't supposed to feel vulnerable or desperate, he was supposed to be strong and Mohinder just made him feel like he was back to being Gabriel, weak and shy, like he wasn't in control of anything, but also like he didn't have to be; like everything was going to be okay. He was the only person he'd ever been near that made him feel that way and as much as he wanted to deny it, he was starting to realize he liked it, almost _craved _it. He wanted Mohinder to control him, to _want _him. He needed to feel that Mohinder was making the choice for himself; he didn't want to be the one who made the decisions anymore. He wasn't looking to be submissive, not by a long shot, but he wasn't trying to dominate either. He'd made a move; shown Mohinder _exactly_ what he wanted. Now it was the doctor's turn to do the same. He didn't know what he would do if he didn't feel the same way, but he knew he couldn't stand to force it. He'd just have to wait and see, no matter how torturous it was.

* * *

The next day Sylar awoke early from a fitful sleep. He had debated invading Mohinder's dreams again last night but an entire day spent letting his mind wander over the possible reason why Mohinder had cancelled their session had put him off the idea. He didn't want to cause anymore damage than he already had.

When the guards came to take him to their daily meeting he had to fight to hide his excitement, then was immediately disgusted with himself for caring. He'd been going through this fight all night and was mentally exhausted from arguing with himself.

Dr. Suresh was sitting cross legged in his chair, studying a page of his notebook intently as Sylar was walked in. He didn't even look up as he mumbled a quiet "hello" when Sylar sat down and his arms were strapped down. The killer waited until the guards had left before looking at Mohinder, who still wouldn't take his eyes off of the paper in front of him, which suddenly fell out of his lap with unnatural force. Mohinder started at the sudden movement but still refused Sylar eye contact.

"Why did you cancel yesterday?" Sylar tried to sound disinterested and not a bit desperate.

"I, um, had to finish up a project I've been working on, it was time sensitive. I told Noah to explain it when he told you I couldn't make it." Mohinder lied.

"I didn't even see Bennett yesterday."

"Damn it! I knew I should've told someone else to do it, but he _promised_ me he would. I'm so sorry, what must you have thought?" He knew that a break in routine had been a bad idea. Sylar, or rather Gabriel, as that was who he was trying to reach (and who it seemed like he'd been talking to more and more as of late), needed stability and trust. It wasn't healthy to disrupt either one of those things while working on a breakthrough. Otherwise it could just end in a break. But it wasn't any of that running though his mind that made him feel bad, it was the fact that he'd hurt him, he could tell.

"No. You should've told me yourself. I was-" _calm down. Don't let him know you missed him. It was only one day, you're being pathetic,_ "bored. I wanted to come out and play." He finished. Sylar's composed self taking over once more.

Mohinder could swear he had been going to say something other than "I was bored" but he didn't want to push the issue.

"I know I should have, I was just… very… busy. I know that's no excuse. I'm sorry it won't happen again, I promise." He hated the fact that he cared enough to feel guilty. He didn't want this, or at least that's what he kept telling himself. But every time he saw those deep brown eyes that reflected so much pain and constant struggle, he couldn't help but get drawn in, to look past all the suffering he'd inflicted and look at all the suffering he endured everyday trying to repent for it.

He knew that logically his feelings for the man who murdered his father and countless others were irrational and completely absurd, perhaps even shameful, but logic never works well when emotions are concerned and Mohinder couldn't help the way he felt. And there was a small part of his mind that didn't want to.

"It's fine. You don't have to apologize." Sylar had so many colossal things to be sorry for that hearing Mohinder being so adamant at apologizing for something so insignificant made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. Especially as he watched him walk over to the couch next to his chair and sit back down. He was leaning forward, so close Sylar could feel his warm breath, he was lost in Mohinder's gaze.

"Yes I do." His voice was so soft, so kind. Coupled with that beautiful accent coming out of those perfect, plump lips it made it difficult for Sylar to keep himself from lunging forward and kissing the Indian on the spot. He refrained though, trying to remember how to talk and which words went where.

"Okay." Was all he could manage.

Mohinder cleared his throat and sat back. Just like that the trance that he'd had Sylar in was broken and they were both back to business.

"So, have you written anything in your journal yet? Yesterday would've been a perfect time for that."

"No. You haven't upheld your part of the bargain, why would I?"

_Dammit. He didn't forget._

"I'll give you a poem after you write an entry, how about that?"

"Poem, then entry." Mohinder didn't like the way Sylar phrased that, or the way he smiled after he said it.

"If I were to do that there would be nothing guaranteeing me that you would keep up your part of the deal. No, it makes much more sense the other way."

"No it doesn't, there's no guarantee for me either. Why would I trust you?"

"Why would _I _trust _you?_"

"I may be a killer, which is something you know I'm working on, but I tell the truth!" This outraged statement made Mohinder laugh.

"Oh please, you lied to me the moment we met. You pretended to be Zane Taylor, or have you forgotten?"

_How could I forget the first time I saw you?_ Sylar thought.

"I had to. You wouldn't have talked to me otherwise; in fact you probably would've tried to kill me."

"That's because you were slaughtering the people I was trying to help. You were just using me to get to them. If I hadn't been your human roadmap I'm sure you would've disposed of me too."

"Well the roadmap part's true; you were very useful in that way. But I wouldn't have _disposed_ of you, as you so elegantly put it. I knew I wanted to meet you since Chandra first mentioned you're name, one of the rare times he did. I couldn't wait and you were so eager, so kind, when I saw you that day. How could I resist but to play along?"

"I was rather naïve then, wasn't I?"

"You did figure me out nevertheless, you weren't all that naïve."

"That is true. It took me a while though." This would always be a sore subject for him; he felt so stupid for leading Sylar to so many innocent people, for being the reason they were dead. He would never forgive himself for his idiocy.

"I'm glad it did; we had time to get to know each other without your hatred for me clouding your thoughts."

"Technically, you got to know me and I got to know your lie." Mohinder corrected.

"You wouldn't have wanted to know me. You hated me, like you do now." Sylar knew this wasn't true, or at least he was hoping it wasn't. He needed to hear Mohinder _say_ he didn't hate him; the look of surprise and hurt on Mohinder's face at the accusation helped but it wasn't enough.

"You know I don't hate you, not anymore."

"Why? After everything I've done to you, how could you not despise me? I do, why don't you?" Sylar practically yelled. Mohinder didn't make any sense. He'd done so many awful things to him, why wouldn't he?

"Because of that: your remorse. You're not the same person as you were then, you couldn't control the hunger, it wasn't your fault. We all understand that now and you're making some encouraging progress here."

"You shouldn't make excuses for me Mohinder. Stop rationalizing. I'm a monster; no amount of remorse changes that." Mohinder couldn't stand to hear Sylar talking like that. A few weeks ago he would've agreed with that statement, but now… something had changed. He didn't want to admit it but _Sylar_ had changed, and so had his feelings towards him. And yet, it wasn't so much a new development as it was a regression to past emotions, emotions he had hidden away once he found out who the man who'd been traveling around the country with him had really been.

He reached out and put his hand on Sylar's wrist. He could feel his pulse racing.

"I don't think you are. At least not any more than the rest of us. And I'm not making excuses, we humans are weak and helpless slaves to our urges; we do what we need to survive. Your genes, your _ability, _tells your mind that you _need_ to understand and that need is what drives you to kill. I'm not condoning what you've done but I can't honestly sit here and say I wouldn't have done the same things. You did what you thought you had to. At least you've learned to control it now, for the most part. That's better than I did with my ability. No one who works for this place will ever have the right to pass judgment on anyone else." He wasn't lying. He'd learned a lot about abilities and what effects they had on the host body as well as the mind, mostly from his brief experience with one, and he was realizing that aggression was a just an inherent part for some. It could be control no more than a normal person could control the flow of their blood or the creation of enzymes, it just happened involuntarily. In others, as they gained more control over the wielding of their power they gained more control over the emotions that were linked to it as well.

Sylar couldn't believe what he was hearing. All the things that had run through his mind earlier, all the doubt, worry, anxiousness, faded. The only thought in his mind at that moment was: _I was right. He feels the same way. _

His internal gloating was interrupted by a loud banging on the door that made Mohinder jump and quickly pull his hand away from Sylar.

The doctor stood up and walked over to the door, partially grateful for the disruption. The look in Sylar's eyes as the sat there staring at each other made him want to lock the door and reenact parts of that amazing/disturbing/arousing dream right then and there. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his head as he opened the door.

"Sorry to interrupt Suresh but I need your patient; we have a new assignment and it's kind of on a time constraint so we have to go now." Noah Bennett said as he went over to Sylar chair and loosened his restraints. He dropped a suit and a pair of shoes unceremoniously in his lap.

"Go get dressed. I'll be in the car." Noah nodded to a guard on the other side of the door as he walked out. The guard stood in the doorway, waiting to escort Sylar back to his room to change. They still didn't trust him to walk the halls alone.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to finish this some other time." Mohinder told Sylar, who was walking towards the guard, glaring. He turned to face Mohinder and his expression changed to a smile.

"Yes. We will."

And with that Sylar was gone, leaving Mohinder with a strong feeling of confusion and a immense desire for a cold shower.


	7. Field Trip

Okay so I lied. This is not the last chapter, but I thought it was a good place to pause since I'm trying to keep all the chapters around 2000 words. So anyway, I hope you enjoy and thank you for staying with me; this has turned out to be a longer story than I expected but I'm having such a good time writting it it's hard to stop. And as always, reviews are oh so welcomed! :-)

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes :'(

* * *

"Since when does the Big Bad Serial Killer keep a diary?" Bennett remarked with his usual condescending laugh.

They were on their way back to Primatech with their latest 'mission' handcuffed and knocked out in the backseat. Most of the day had been spent tediously tracking the man (a firestarter), who'd been wreaking havoc on the city of Philadelphia. You'd think that a man leaving raging fires in his wake would be easy to find, but he had been surprisingly illusive.

They'd been driving in silence most of the way, Noah enjoying the scenery of turning leaves against a backdrop of fading sunlight. Once they were back in the city traffic he had glanced over at Sylar, noticing him scribbling furiously by the dim glow of headlights and the last remnants of the sun. Sylar quickly slammed the small leather book in his hands shut, sliding it down between his right leg and the passenger door. He shifted uncomfortably and turned his gaze to the trunk of the car in front of them, trying to keep his expression completely locked in a deep scowl.

That didn't deserve a reply.

"You'll ruin your eyes like that, you know."

Sylar responded with an inaudible grumble.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help. I know how troublesome glasses can be." He was starting to enjoy himself now.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." He replied sarcastically. He was hoping that a retort would shut him up since the silent treatment obviously wasn't working.

"So how's your shrink working out? Do you and Suresh look over inkblots and discuss which parts of the brain they look like? Or do you spend the whole time talking about mommy dearest?" Bennett laughed at the thought of it.

He'd had enough of this. Sylar was already agitated (and a bit queasy) from the stop and start of the traffic and now Bennett was pushing that agitation to downright fury at his comments. He had no right to talk about _any_ of that. He wanted to throw him against the side of the car and remind him who he was talking to, but he restrained himself.

"What, no answer? I understand; therapy can be an emotional thing. I wouldn't want you to start crying."

Now he _really _wanted to hurt him. He clenched his fists so tight that his nails were digging into the palm of his hands but he didn't care.

_Calm down. You can't kill him. Mohinder would never forgive you. You're almost back to Primatech, just breath._

Sylar took a deep breath and opened his door; luckily the car was stopped at the time. He welcomed the rush of cold air as got out, slamming the door behind him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Bennett yelled. He tried to reach for the door but realized that he couldn't move his hands; or his entire upper body for that matter. "You can't do this Sylar!"

Sylar wasn't listening. He had no idea where he was going but he knew he had to get as far away from Noah as possible before he killed him. He'd used his telekinesis to immobilize him and make sure all of the doors were firmly held shut. By the time he was he was out of range it would be too late for Bennett to follow him. He would have to choose between wandering around the streets of New York City at night looking for him and leaving the firestarter where he was or finishing their assignment and _then_ assembling a search party. As much as Sylar knew that nothing would give Noah Bennett more joy than to have an _actual _excuse to kill him, which he had provide, he also knew that there was no way he'd risk loosing their captive and incurring the wrath of Angela Petrelli.

So he was safe and free, for a brief time at least, and he could only think of one place he wanted to go.

* * *

Sylar's stomach was knotted with nerves as he knocked on Mohinder's door, deciding not to go with his usual approach of barging in or sneaking in, seeing as that would most likely end up scaring the doctor, and that wasn't the reaction he was aiming for.

He heard the clink of a chain sliding back and a deadbolt being turned and then Mohinder was there. Standing right in front of him, shirtless and holding a towel in his hand, looking a bit bewildered at Sylar presence in his doorway.

_Oh God._ Sylar swallowed hard. _He just got out of the shower._

Mohinder looked so good standing there. His dark curls falling haphazardly around his face, still slightly damp; his muscles glistening, skin still flush from the hot water.

"What are you doing here? Does Bennett know where you are?" Sylar was mesmerized by his accent; so beautiful, so concerned. He wanted to touch him, to pull him close and never let go; wanted to run his fingers through that gorgeous mane and kiss every inch of that fit, caramel colored body.

"Sylar?" Mohinder's voice pulled his mind back to the situation at hand.

"Hmm? Oh, I…" He hadn't thought past Mohinder opening the door and his brain wouldn't focus on anything other than the bare chest in front of him. "Here." He suddenly remembered what he was holding in his hand and he shoved it at Mohinder as he walked past him, without invitation, into the apartment he knew so well.

"You've been writing." He flipped through the journal that was now almost full of messy scribbles.

"Yes." Sylar said, making himself comfortable on the couch.

"You know you could've waited until tomorrow to give me this." Mohinder stated as he shut the door, utterly confused.

"I know, but I didn't want to." He was starting to regain his confidence now that the shirtless doctor was out of eye shot.

Mohinder walked around the other side of the couch and sat down next to him, unsure of where this was leading, or where he hoped it was leading.

"Is that the only reason you came by? To show me you've finished your assignment?"

"No."

He waited for Sylar to say something else, to no avail. He cleared his throat; thinking of something to say to cut the tension that was building as the silence dragged on.

"You didn't answer me earlier; does Bennett know you're here?" Sylar shifted uncomfortably under his stern gaze and he was suddenly struck by how attractive awkward looked on the reforming killer. He blushed and thanked the universe that mind reading was not on the list of abilities that Sylar had acquired over the years.

"Of course he does." He lied.

"So how did you get away from him without being shot or followed?" Mohinder inquired, completely ignoring Sylar's reply.

"I told you, he knows I'm here. Besides, shooting me wouldn't do any good, I would just heal." He retorted indignantly.

"Not after Bennett shot you, you wouldn't. And don't lie to me; I thought we were past that." Mohinder made sure to play up this last part, looking and sounding hurt and dejected. Sylar looked as if the geneticist had slapped him across the face.

"I'm sorry." He blurted out remorsefully before he could catch himself. He hadn't meant to hurt Mohinder. He hadn't meant to lie to him; he just didn't want to have to leave now that he'd finally gotten the chance to be here. He didn't want Noah to be called, it would ruin the moment.

Mohinder stood up as if to go over to the phone. Sylar reached out and grasped his wrist tightly, looking up into his deep, caring eyes. "Don't call them. Please." It was part whisper part whimper and Mohinder couldn't resist it.

"I won't."

Then, with perfect timing, the phone rang, making them both jump and Sylar release his grip.

Mohinder grabbed the phone off the table and answered it.

"Hello?" He took a deep breath.

"Yes, he's with me."

Sylar looked at him nervously and was reassured by a soft smile.

"No it's fine. I told him too. It's an exercise, part of his recovery." His mind was racing trying to come up with a viable reason that Sylar would be at his house without notice in the middle of the night.

"Yes, I know it's late. I wasn't expecting the mission to take so long."

Nervousness turned into awe as Sylar listened to Mohinder lie for him.

"As long as it takes," he looked Sylar up and down, soft smile turning to wicked grin, "He'll be returned as soon as I'm done with him. - Yes – I understand. I'll be sure to let you know the next time I schedule a fieldtrip, but this is really very important to his recovery so I'm going to have to insist he stays. – Yes, I will. Good night." He sat the phone back down on the table and was immediately reminded of his dream as Sylar stood up and walked over to him. He took a deep breath and tried to muster up the courage to enact the scene that was playing out in his mind.

"Sylar." He murmured, reaching up to caress his soft, pale cheek; his thumb running over those warm lips. He could feel Sylar shudder under his touch and his heart beginning to race.

"Don't." Sylar closed his eyes, not sure whether he wanted to finish the statement, unsure of what the beautiful creature standing in front of him might think, but he knew he had to; even if it did make him sound crazy. "Don't call me that. Please. I don't want to be him anymore. I don't _need_ him anymore." His words were scarcely audible but Mohinder heard every one of them. He tilted Sylar's head and moved closer, so that their lips were barely an inch apart, pausing to whisper "Gabriel" before their mouths collided.


	8. Finale

So this is it. The last chapter. Or is it??????? Your guess is as good as mine at the moment; I haven't decided anything yet, but for the moment, this is it. I hope you like it!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.

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The ex-watchmaker whimpered at the sound of his name. It rolled so perfectly off those lips; those smooth, soft lips that were pressed against his. He breathed in the Indian's delicious scent. He smelt clean and fresh with the slightest trace of mandarin, which Gabriel assumed was the fragrance of his soap. It was intoxicating. He slid his tongue between Mohinder's lips and ran his hands across the doctors' shirtless back, wanting to experience him with as many senses as possible.

Mohinder, realizing that Gabriel was wearing too much for his liking, started removing articles of clothing as he tried to direct him to the bedroom without breaking their embrace. Not an easy task. Gabriel kicked his shoes off and under the kitchen table while Mohinder slid the suit jacket that made him look oh-so-delectable off of those muscular shoulders, dropping it onto one of the chairs.

Walking to the bedroom was a power struggle; they would walk a few feet then Gabriel would pin him up against a wall, groping and biting ferociously until Mohinder would push him off and continue on towards his room, then after a few seconds lacking skin contact he would pull Gabriel back to him by which ever piece of clothing was the next to go. First it was the tie, which mysteriously landed on the bed post even though they hadn't even entered the room yet and he could've _sworn_ he tossed it in the opposite direction. (Gabriel was thinking ahead.) Then off went the shirt. He had to take extra care with this, as it wouldn't do for Gabriel to go back to Primatech the next morning with all of the buttons on his nice new shirt ripped off.

By the time they were down to the removal of his belt they had reached the bed. Mohinder pushed Gabriel down onto the mattress with a force that surprised them both. They hadn't realized how much they both wanted this. He kissed Gabriel deeply then started working his way down. Mohinder's lips were warm against his flesh, the three day old stubble of his facial hair creating a textured and pleasurable sensation across Gabriel's silken skin. He moved down his jaw line and neck, making sure not to leave any discernable marks that could be discovered by guards. Then he made his way along Gabriel's torso, using rough hands to caress every inch of exposed skin and draw out more of the low, growl-like moans emanating from the reforming killer.

Gabriel took a sharp breath as Mohinder let his fingers play teasingly across his hipbones and ever-so-slightly under the waistband of his boxers. The doctor smiled at the effect he was having on him. He unbuttoned Gabriel's pants, which had been growing tighter with ever passing second, and slid them down long, pale legs, taking his socks off while he was at it. He stood up and removed his own pants, pausing briefly to stare down at the picturesque scene before him. Gabriel looked so breathtakingly good lying there with his eyes closed, head tilted to one side, chest moving rapidly up and down, his arousal evident from beneath his boxers.

All of a sudden he opened his eyes and looked up at Mohinder, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Why'd you stop?" He asked quizzically, furrowing his brow in that adorable, puzzled way of his that made the geneticists breath catch.

"I just had to take a moment to look at you." Mohinder ran a hand through his hair as he looked the body in front of him up and down.

"You haven't seen all of me yet." Gabriel corrected. He kept his eyes on Mohinder as he used telekinesis to remove the view-obstructing boxers and grinned at the hungry look on the Indian's face. He sat up on his knees at the end of the bed and pulled Mohinder into a deep kiss, pressing their bodies together so tightly that he could feel Mohinder's heart beating against his chest, speeding up as Gabriel finished undressing him, deliberately putting his hands everywhere but Mohinder's hardening member as payback for the earlier teasing.

"Mmm....Gabriel." Mohinder moaned into his ear. The hot breath and soft lips making contact with his earlobe coupled with the sound of his name being spoken so eagerly made his knees go weak. _Time to lie down. _

He pulled Mohinder down onto the bed, showering his now naked body with rough, toothy kisses, running rough hands up his thighs to his groin, still teasing whimpers out of his supple lips. Gabriel took Mohinder into his mouth, skilled tongue working with massaging hands to make Mohinder's back arch and fists clench. He stopped before Mohinder got too close; he wanted to draw this out. Gabriel maneuvered the Indian's body into his desired position and prepared him for entry, Mohinder relinquishing all power to him completely, enjoying the feeling of not being in control for once. He breathed in sharply as Gabriel's palms pressed against his stomach and he began thrusting into him. Mohinder's moans raised in volume as he felt long, bony fingers slide down his abdomen and wrap around the length of him, Gabriel mirroring his thrusting with the up and down movement of his hand and causing the geneticist to bite his lip in an attempt to keep from crying out in ecstasy.

"I want to hear you scream." Gabriel breathed into his ear upon noticing this. Inspired by the sight of pearly white teeth on flesh, he planted a soft kiss on Mohinder's shoulder before biting down with enough pressure to extract the scream he longed so desperately to hear but not enough to break the delicate, caramel skin. He traced his tongue along the impression his teeth left, trying to keep the movement fluid even though his body was starting to lose control.

Gabriel was moaning now too, a mixture of indiscernible sounds laced with Mohinder's name and a few expletives. Everything was a blur. Pain, pleasure, it was all the same and he wanted more; he _needed_ more. He moved faster and harder, heart pounding in his chest, that fiery sensation building up in the pit of his stomach.

Mohinder was so close. He was shuddering now; his breath speeding up, chest moving frenetically; his fingernails digging into Gabriel's thigh as their bodies rocked back and forth. He came as Gabriel finished, feeling the man swell inside him along with the rough, vigorous movement of the hand caressing him was too much to keep control any longer.

The two men lay in silence, unable to speak or even move for that matter; numb with euphoria.

"That…was…incredible." Mohinder said after a few minutes. He rolled over so that they were lying face to face and placed his hand on Gabriel's chest, tracing his fingers along the ex-watchmakers delicate collar bone. Gabriel nodded in agreement and smiled.

"The night's not over yet. You're all mine for..." he looked over at the clock on Mohinder's nightstand; it wasn't even midnight yet, "at least seven more hours. I have so much more planned for us." He grinned devilishly as he leaned down and kissed his lover softly on the lips, running a hand through sweaty, tangled curls. His movements were calm and gentle as opposed to the forcefulness of earlier. Mohinder liked the contrast.

"I will need sleep at some point." It was a feeble and insincere attempt at resistance

"You don't need sleep, you get enough of that. You need _sex_." Mohinder laughed. _So true._ Gabriel rolled over onto his back and put his arm around him as Mohinder rested his head on his pale shoulder.

"Gabriel."

"Hmm?"

"I just- I think-" He knew what he wanted to say, he just didn't know how to say it. It was barely a whisper but he knew that it would be heard. "You're perfect."


End file.
